Finding Her Courage Read online

  Her words stopped so suddenly Camille got nervous. She hurried inside, afraid the floor had sunk in or the roof was missing. Another one of God’s little jokes. But everything was fine. A little dusty, maybe, but in good shape.

  “It’s like something out of Town and Country.” Nikki moved farther into the house. “I can sell this in a week.”

  “Good. Maybe we can leave early.”

  Nikki looked at her cross-eyed. “I already took the month off. It’s summer in the country. This is like a dream. Do you really want to go back to Chicago?”

  “It’s too quiet here.”

  Nikki shook her head and looked at Evie. “You like it, right?”

  Evie shrugged and went to look at the kitchen.

  “Why don’t you get your decorator’s brain working and figure out how to stage this?” Nikki was already fluffing pillows.

  “I’m an event decorator.”

  “Like houses are so different? I saw pictures from that anniversary party you did. Wasn’t that in a house?”

  True. It wasn’t Camille’s decorating ideas that had caused her career to flop the last few months. That was stress, stress and more stress. Maybe a little decorating would ease the pressure.

  The furniture here was old, but some fresh linen and pillows would make it look antiquey instead of ancient. Move the sofa away from the window and let in some light; it wouldn’t take much to spruce things up.

  Camille’s phone started buzzing. She pulled it from her pocket as missed-call notifications flooded in. “I picked up a signal.”

  Nikki looked at her phone. “Really? I’ve still got nothing.” She waved her phone over her head, then opened the front door and stepped out on the porch.

  Camille’s stomach did a somersault. Ten missed calls. All the same number. She dialed Ben and his secretary answered.

  “Attorney King’s office.”

  “Hi, this is Camille Bellamy. I’m returning—”

  “Oh, Camille. I’m glad you called. He’s been going absolutely bonkers here. Hold on, I’ll connect you.”

  A minute later her lawyer came on the line. “Camille? I tried calling you a dozen times.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. The reception here is nonexistent.”

  “Listen, we’ve got a prob—”

  His voice cut off. “Ben...?” Silence. The signal had bleeped out of existence again. Goodie. There had to be a house phone around here. George always kept a landline.

  A fly buzzed somewhere, irritating her already prickly nerves. She ignored it as she looked for the phone, but it got louder and louder. And closer. Camille stopped looking and stared at the open door. The sound was coming from outside.

  Nikki looked around from the porch. “Is that thunder?”

  “I don’t think so.” Evie followed Camille outside. They looked toward the gray clouds growing in the sky.

  Oh, boy.

  A plane’s engine rumbled overhead. It was one of those personal aircrafts, the kind only rich celebrities could afford. It circled over their heads, then nosedived toward the ground like it was going to crash.

  Camille let out an earsplitting shriek and grabbed hold of Evie, covering her with her body. The plane righted itself a second later, then did a full upside-down circle in the air and zigzagged between some clouds. Camille finally got it.

  Tricks. The pilot was doing stunts. Over her house.

  The pilot flew away, circled the neighboring ranch, then landed his plane on a grassy runway Camille hadn’t noticed at first glance.

  “Oh, no,” said Nikki. “Is that an airstrip? Next door?” Her eyes were big. “No one’s gonna want to live next to an airfield. I won’t sell this place in a million years.”

  “Get Evie inside.” Camille was already moving toward the neighbor’s house.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To make sure that never happens again.”

  * * *

  Ty Spencer loved flying. Nothing could change that. Not even crashing into the Pacific four years ago. Every time the wings of his plane touched the clouds, he felt a little bit closer to God. It was the thing he’d loved most about being a naval flight officer.

  He let the plane’s propellers come to a complete stop before turning to the redhead beside him. She still had her hands over her eyes. “You can look now.”

  She spread two manicured fingernails and peered through the windshield to her friends waiting at the end of the runway—four city women jumping up and down in six-inch heels that had no place on a ranch let alone the copilot seat of his Cessna 172.

  The redhead looked at him with bright, hopeful eyes. She laid one hand on his forearm. “How’d I do?”

  That made the thousandth time since opening Sky High Ranch he’d been asked that question. He gently pulled her hand off him and set it on the armrest. “You did great for a first-timer.”

  Ruby lips beamed at him as sparkly stilettos hopped out of the plane. Dillon was there to make sure she didn’t fall and break an ankle. Her friends rushed her, talking over each other and stressing every couple of words.

  “Oh, wow that was amazing!”

  “I can’t believe you flew so high!”

  The redhead bounced happily in the center of them, her birthday tiara slipping sideways. “Did you see me? I flew with a Green Angel!”

  “Blue Angel,” Ty said, correcting her. “Retired.”

  “Whatever.” The redhead stood, posing for pictures in front of the plane.

  Dillon swatted the back of Ty’s neck. “She likes you. Why don’t you ask her to dinner?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Since Mia left, Ty’s younger brother had made it his mission to finagle love back into Ty’s life. According to Dill, twenty-nine was too old for hurt feelings and bitter memories. Just because Mia had walked out on him right when Ty needed her most was no reason to avoid love forever. Time to move on. But then Dill hadn’t been the one who’d buried his best friend and lost his girlfriend in less than a year.

  Dillon was still talking about the redhead. He looked for someone to back up his dinner idea. “Emmitt! Hey, come here a second.”

  Emmitt Wilder looked over from the bench where he’d been sitting and watching the clouds. A frown etched itself across his face. Dillon called to him again, offering a wide grin and a friendly wave. Emmitt rose and walked away.

  The redhead’s friends were demanding their turns now, suddenly fearless of climbing thousands of feet in the air without a safety net.

  Ty looked at the clouds. They probably had a half hour of flight time left unless the winds came in early. If he wanted to get the entire group up before the rain started, he and Dillon would have to split them in two. Dillon could take the second Cessna and they’d be back on the ground before the first drop fell.

  “We’d better get moving.” Ty started giving instructions.

  A loose swag of blond hair caught his attention coming over the grassy hill. The woman it belonged to pushed past the birthday party and stopped when she saw him. Dimples creased the corners of her mouth and surprise registered on her face. “You.”

  Seeing the woman from the gas station caught Ty off guard, and he was never caught off guard. She stared at him a moment, then rolled her shoulders back.

  “Are you the pilot?”

  He nodded.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  A nail bitten down to the quick wagged so close to him it almost bumped his nose. Soft pink lips formed a snarl that didn’t fit her face.

  “I’m in the middle of a lesson.” Any of the waitresses at the diner could have told her where to find him, but thanking him again really wasn’t necessary. “Look, don’t worry about before. I was happy to help.”

  Dimples’s mouth dropped open and eyes like the Mariana Trench spit blue
fire at him. “I’m not here to thank you.”

  The birthday girl turned a peeved expression on him. “She can’t cut. We were here first.” Ty assured her cutting was not allowed.

  Dillon motioned toward the sky. The clouds were getting thicker, and closer. Dimples was staring at him with an irate look Ty didn’t totally understand. “Did you want to talk to someone about lessons? Let me get one of my guys.” He looked around for Emmitt.

  Hands went to her hips and sat there. “I don’t want a lesson. I want you to stop flying your plane.” She did a slow three-sixty, taking in the barn slash makeshift hangar where the second Cessna and the Piper Cub were holed up. “All of them.”

  Was she giving orders? “This is my ranch. I’m pretty sure that means I can do what I want.”

  A slender finger pointed toward the Sweet Dreams Ranch a half mile out. “But that’s my house you were buzzing over. I’m pretty sure that means I get a say in things.”

  Her house? Ty’s brow crinkled. “Are you Camille?”

  Long dark lashes fluttered their surprise. “How...?”

  “George talked about you all the time. I’m Ty Spencer. This is my brother, Dillon.” Dillon waved hello, then started telling jokes to the birthday crowd, trying to ease their irritation. It didn’t work.

  A flustered look ran across Camille’s face. “You’re Ty? George mentioned you. A lot, actually. Nothing about planes though.”

  Ty could take a couple guesses why, but he didn’t think bringing up her husband’s plane crash would help the situation any. “Look, I’m sorry if the plane scared you. George never minded.”

  A defiant glare rolled off her face. “I wasn’t scared. But I’ve got a showing tomorrow at eleven, and no one’s gonna buy a house next to an airport.”

  A jackhammer started pounding on Ty’s head. “A showing?”

  Camille’s lips pressed into each other. “I’m selling the house.”

  Dillon nudged him. “Ty, the rain.”

  Ty held up one finger, keeping his eyes on Camille. “George didn’t want his house sold.”

  A flicker of guilt crossed her face. “It’s my decision.”

  God sure did like His little surprises, didn’t He? “Don’t you think we should talk about this first?”

  Dillon nudged him harder. “Ty.”

  “Yeah, just a minute.” He looked at Camille, waiting for an answer.

  The only answer Ty got was more irritation. “What is there to talk about?”

  “Funny thing, being co-owners of a ranch means we’re gonna have to talk to each other once in a while.”

  The blank look she gave him left a cold feeling on the back of his neck. Oh, no. Don’t tell me...

  The birthday group was standing with their arms crossed. One of them had her phone out and was typing furiously as she shot daggers his way.

  Ty flashed back to the blogger from two months ago whose bad review had sent their ranch into a tailspin: Sky High Ranch = Sky High Disappointment. Another review like that and the financial dip they’d take would be irrecoverable.

  He turned to Dillon. “Start up Cessna 2. We’ll head up in five.” Dillon hurried to the hangar.

  Camille’s hands were back on her hips. “What did you mean by that? We’re not co-owners of anything. George left the house to me.”

  Great. Ty got to be the messenger, and messengers never had it easy. “And he left me the land.”

  The bottom of her jaw dropped toward the grass. “That’s not true.” Inside the hangar, the Cessna started up, drowning out their words so they had to shout everything.

  “Ask your lawyer.”

  “I don’t have to. I know you’re lying.”

  Ty didn’t like being called a liar. The only person he’d ever lied to was himself, and that was a habit he was trying to break. “Just ask him.”

  “No.” Her dimples took an angry turn. They got bigger and deeper, more like peach pits.

  “Have fun trying to sell a house without the land to go with it.”

  Something wet touched Ty’s nose. He looked at the sky as sprinkles almost immediately turned to showers. Camille looked at him triumphantly, as if she and God had conspired against him.

  The birthday group ran for their cars. Ty promised a full refund and felt the pinch in his already lean wallet. If they wanted to come back again, he’d give them each a free lesson. Anything, so long as their bad reviews didn’t go viral. The redhead’s irate look made no promises.

  The Cessna’s engine cut out and thunder cracked overhead. When Ty turned back to Camille, she was already halfway over the hill and back to Sweet Dreams.

  Dillon came over. “If you hadn’t argued with her for twenty minutes, we could’ve made it.” Just the bolster Ty needed right now. “I’ve never seen anyone rattle you like that. Not even Mia.”

  Dillon had better not be playing matchmaker. “Mosquito bites are less annoying.”

  They watched the birthday group drive off. “Think they’ll leave reviews?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Think they’ll be bad?”

  “Yes.” But that didn’t mean their ranch had to close. Yet. “As long as we win over Phoebe Saylor and her fiancé, people won’t care about bad reviews for flying lessons. Movie star weddings have a way of making people forget all that.”

  A smug look ran across Dillon’s face. “You can thank me for my brilliant idea at any time.”

  Brilliant? Maybe half-brilliant. “Hosting a wedding is one thing. Full-service wedding planning is another.”

  The smug look scattered. “I had to do something. Or was it your plan to let Liam beat us out before Phoebe even got to see our ranch? He still might, you know. He’s hosted weddings before. We’re the newbies on the block.”

  Ty knew. All too well. He gritted his teeth and lightly slapped his brother’s arm. “We’ll be fine. Don’t ruin things.”

  Chapter Two

  Camille pulled her phone from her pocket as the rain got going. She was walking fast, but not as fast as the droplets that splashed her screen. Ben’s number came up on top. Please, God, let it go through. But God had other plans.

  Sweet Dreams Ranch was back in reach. She jumped the three porch steps and slammed the door behind her. Nikki looked up from the couch, her laptop open. Evie was in an oversize chair, staring at her feet.

  “Is the Wi-Fi working?” Camille asked. She could call Ben.

  “Not yet. I can’t find the password. What did the neighbor say?”

  Words tried forming in Camille’s mouth, but all she could say was, “Phone. I need a phone.” Nikki blinked, then held out her cell. “I need a phone that works. Where’s the landline?”

  Nikki shrugged as Camille’s head spun. What Ty had said couldn’t be true. There was no way George would do something like that to her. But she needed to hear Ben say it.

  A worried frown crossed Nikki’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  How could she explain things without more details? “Please just help me find the phone.” Nikki quit asking questions and started searching.

  A small hand tugged on Camille’s elbow. Evie pointed toward a side table in the corner where a black cordless phone sat beside an old-school answering machine. Camille kissed the top of her daughter’s head and grabbed it.

  “Ben?”

  “I was hoping you’d call back. We’ve got a mess.” Not exactly the reassurance she was looking for.

  “Please say it’s got nothing to do with my neighbor.”

  She recognized that hiss of air between Ben’s teeth. Bad news. “Is your neighbor’s name Ty Spencer?”

  Camille was afraid to answer. “Yes. He said he owns half of George’s place. But that can’t be true, is it?”

  Another hiss. “I’m afraid so.”

  Hows and whats and whys pile
d up in Camille’s brain, overwhelming her tongue so she couldn’t even get out one question. Nikki was busy mouthing words. What? Huh?

  “Camille, are you still there?”

  When had her throat gotten so dry? “I’m here.”

  His fancy lawyer’s chair squeaked as he moved around in it. “I didn’t find out about this until after you’d left. George’s lawyer was late getting it to me.”

  “Getting what to you?”

  “George’s will. He amended it just before he died. Ty Spencer’s name is on it. The land is his, the house is yours.”

  The backs of Camille’s legs touched the couch. She fell into it and sat there. “Is that legal?”

  She could almost see the pinched look on Ben’s face. “It’ll never hold up in court.”

  Great. So why didn’t she feel better? “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I can argue a million ways out of this. Maybe it was a typing error. Maybe the cancer got to George’s brain before he died and made him unsound.”

  Camille’s spine stiffened. “No, don’t say that.”

  Ben paused a moment. “It might help if I did. It doesn’t have to be completely true so long as it’s a little true.”

  Camille had been with George at the end, and his mind had been the only part of him still working. She wouldn’t take that away from him. “No. If you say that about George, you won’t be my lawyer anymore.”

  There was a second-long silence that seemed to stretched on for minutes. “Okay, I’m sorry. It was just a thought. I don’t need it anyhow. Like I said, there’s a million ways to argue this. Just go on with your plans to sell the place. I’ll call in a few favors and have this before a judge by the end of the week. You won’t even need to come back.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive. Ty Spencer has a better chance of owning the Taj Mahal than he does George’s land.”

  Camille wasn’t sure that was entirely true, but it made her feel better just the same. And for now she’d take what she could get.

  * * *

  Nikki’s voice called up the stairs at exactly 11:00 a.m. the next morning. “They’re here.”